And although I know it's a long road back
by anotherreasonwhynot
Summary: A feelsy little Christmas drabble with(out?) Tuck


She knew all along it was a possibility, maybe even a probability. She still hated to admit it. She'd been so sure, so absolutely sure this wouldn't happen. Staring out the window at the falling snow, her arms crossed over her chest, she sighed heavily, barely registering the footsteps approaching.

"Cheer up, darling. It's Christmas. Your favorite time of the year, remember?" her father spoke, offering her a steaming cup of what she suspected was her mother's special blend, Christmas tea. She accepted the mug, offering her father a weak attempt at a smile. The Christmas tree in the corner seemed to be mocking her with all its twinkly lights and other decorations. _Look how merry I am._

"I'm sure he has a good reason," she heard her mother's voice. _Yeah, he actually does. It still sucks though,_ she thought. If her parents only knew how good his reason was. Being in a relationship with a CIA field operative definitely had its downs: he left a week ago, to a destination he couldn't divulge as usual, promising to give it his best effort and then some to be back with her by Christmas. As Christmas Eve was drawing to a close, she was feeling more and more depressed by the minute. She sighed again. _If you only knew…_

"I'm sure he does," she replied, trying to sound cheerful while making sure her voice didn't show just how disappointed she was. She didn't want her parents thinking Tuck had let her down in any way, or that he was treating her badly, because it was so far from the truth. She had never before been in a relationship with such a caring and loving man, and every day she wondered how she had been so lucky as to meet him, let alone to be in a relationship with him.

And the best part was, he felt the same way about her.

On top of feeling miserable without him, she felt like crap for not being able to hide it better in front of her parents. She was so happy that she'd be seeing her sister and her family the following day, and she was happy that she got to spend time with her parents, but Christmas was special, and she wanted to spend it everyone she loved, and that included him. She was being selfish, she knew, which didn't help how she was feeling. _Maybe I don't deserve to have everyone here, seeing as I can't even be grateful for all the wonderful things I have. I'm healthy, everyone I love is healthy, I have a job and a house and a great guy who can't be with me on Christmas. Oh God…_

She came back to reality as she heard Frank Sinatra over the speakers:

"_I'll be home for Christmas, you can plan on me…_"

Her mother was playing "Christmas with the Rat Pack". They all liked the older versions of the familiar Christmas songs, but this particular one, this goddamn particular one…

"I think I'll head upstairs," she said abruptly, blinking rapidly.

"Darling, are you feeling alright?" her mother asked, placing her cup on the coffee table and making a notion towards rising from her seat.

"Fine, mom. Just tired. I'll take my tea up to my room if that's okay?" she replied, trying her hardest not to listen to the song that started to feel like it was filling up the whole house.

"Of course darling. If you're sure you're okay?"

"Yes, mother, I'm fine. I'll see you in the morning. Good night," she said, giving her parents both a peck on the cheek and making her way upstairs and into her old room as quickly as possible without spilling the tea all over the place.

Once she'd managed to shut the door behind her she placed the mug on her old desk and let the first tear fall as she sunk on the floor.

She was overall an emotional person and cried over everything, over movies, over stupid reality TV shoes, over commercials, absolutely everything, so this was nothing out of the ordinary. Only this time, she wasn't just emotional. She was sad that she wouldn't be spending her favorite day of the year with the man she loved. And that stupid song…

She crawled over to her suitcase, opened it and dug out a CD. Michael Bublé's "Christmas". Standing up again she made her way over to her desk and to her laptop, inserting the CD into the drive and chose "I'll be home for Christmas".

She grabbed the mug and walked over to her bed, sitting on the edge so she could watch more of the falling snow. She didn't really see it though. The song took her mind a full week back. That was the last time she'd played this particular album, this particular song.

_I'll be home for Christmas  
You can plan on me_

"I know you can't tell me where you're going, and I'm not asking."

"What are you asking then, love?" he replied smirking, his arms wrapped around her waist.

"That I find you under my Christmas tree, safe and sound" she smiled, all the while remembering that he was leaving in a matter of minutes.

"I love you but I don't want to make promises that I'm not certain I can keep," he spoke softly, pressing his forehead against hers. "But I can promise you I'll try."

_Please have snow and mistletoe and presents by the tree_

"But promise me that you'll still be careful. I'd much rather have you back in one piece for New Year's than… in any other form for Christmas," she finished uncertainly. He chuckled and pressed his lips on her hair.

"I promise," he said, leaning back to look into her eyes.

"Don't worry, love," he continued.

_Christmas Eve will find me  
Where the love light gleams_

"I always worry," she replied.

"I know," he smiled and leaned in, kissing her goodbye, long and sweet.

_I'll be home for Christmas  
If only in my dreams_

She'd forgotten all about her tea that was now lukewarm. She leaned over to place the cup on her nightstand, and lay down on the bed on her side, fixing her eyes on the window as she sighed once more.

"Only in my dreams, it would seem," she spoke sardonically to herself.

"Well you are lacking the mistletoe."

Her heart skipped a beat as she pinched her eyes shut.

"If I'm imagining you I've officially lost my mind," she spoke, when she felt the bed shift.

"Open your eyes, love."

She cautiously cracked one eye open, to meet his staring at her as he hovered over her. Her hands flew over her mouth as the tears came again.

"Merry Christmas," he whispered smiling, wiping the tears from her face.

"You made it," she replied, smiling as the tears fell freely, her hands stroking the sides of his face, the back of his neck, up and down his shoulders and arms, as if to check he was really there.

"I did," he spoke.

"Mistletoe or no, kiss me," she chuckled. And he did.


End file.
